


Stolen Moments

by ozhawk, QuothTheDragon



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-04-24 18:49:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4931173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozhawk/pseuds/ozhawk, https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuothTheDragon/pseuds/QuothTheDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A continuation of the wonderful ozhawk's Soulmate Shorts Chapter 119, Natasha/Heimdall. </p><p>Loneliness has been Natasha's only steadfast companion in life. She never wanted a soulmate, had never known love. Now she has a tall, golden-eyed Asgardian watching over her from another part of the galaxy. </p><p>His duty as Guardian always kept Heimdall aloof and removed from others. He had never thought to hope for a soulmate, or for love. Now, he must balance his duty with watching (and worrying) over a certain fiery-haired Midgardian warrior. </p><p>They knew all they would ever have is stolen moments. Yet, somehow, they just might manage to fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“I seek Prince Thor.”

Natasha would forever afterwards maintain that she did not leap up in the air and scream. It had, after all, been a really long time since anyone had actually been able to sneak up on her. Despite Clint’s best efforts.

She recovered mid-air, bounced off the wall, backflipped and came up in a fighting stance. And looked up, and up, and up, at the golden-eyed, golden-armoured giant standing in the middle of the kitchen.

“Where the hell did you come from?”

A dark eyebrow raised behind the open visor of his helmet. “You are the Lady Natasha, are you not? I am Heimdall, the Guardian. I seek Prince Thor.”

“I thought you were the one who could see everything?” she said argumentatively, still off-balance from the fact that he’d managed to sneak up on her.

“Only from the Bifrost chamber, my lady,” he bowed to her slightly. “I saw him last in this location. I surmise he cannot be too far away?”

Thor came striding in at that very moment. “Heimdall! What brings you here?”

They were gone within minutes, headed for Asgard. Heimdall and Natasha didn’t speak again, but before he left, he looked at her from those amazing golden eyes and inclined his head. She found herself nodding, and was surprised by his slight smile.

_That’s a very attractive man. Demi-god. Asgardian. Whatever he is._

It had been so long that Natasha had actually been attracted to someone that it took her a while to identify the feeling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I am ready to return, Heimdall!” Thor strode into the Bifrost chamber, clapped his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Yes,” the Guardian said distractedly. He was gazing out of the window into the cosmos. “Yes, I will send you back, my prince. I – did not previously understand why you wished to remain among them, but – Midgardians are fascinating, are they not?”

“They are indeed, my friend.” Thor eyed Heimdall for a moment. “Especially their women.”

The way Heimdall twitched and jerked his eyes away from the window told Thor what he wanted to know.

“Aha!” he boomed. “So it is some fair Midgardian maid who has caught your eye!”

“Enough, Thor!” Heimdall gave him a quelling glare. “Even if that were true, nothing could come of it. My place, my task is here.”

“You’re not the only Guardian. And you deserve a break. Why not come to Earth with me, visit with the Avengers? I know Father asks you about them. Come and get to know them, interact with them as well as observe from afar.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thor was surprised when Heimdall actually turned up at the Tower a few weeks later, though, dressed in clothes that could pass on Earth – although the dark leather coat and pants on his tall, powerful form had a lot of women falling over their feet staring.

Natasha told herself sternly that she wasn’t going to stare like a silly girl with a crush as Thor introduced his friend to them all.

“And this is the Lady Natasha Romanoff,” Thor introduced, and she gave him a glare. Really, she’d thought he would have learned to drop the Lady by now. “Known as the Black Widow.”

“We did meet before,” Natasha murmured.

“Indeed, milady. Though we were not formally introduced.” Heimdall held out a large hand, the fingers curved slightly upwards. Natasha knew the gesture; he intended to kiss her hand. She suppressed the childish urge to put her own hands behind her back. Slowly, she extended her hand. His much larger hand curved under it, their fingertips met…

She did not scream at the pain. The Red Room had long ago trained that reflex out of her. The only sign she gave was a small hiss of indrawn breath. Heimdall made a greater noise, an exclamation of “Odin’s eye!” and then his other hand came up to press hers between them, his golden eyes wide as he stared down at her. 

Thor, recognising what had happened, swiftly hustled everyone else out, leaving the two of them alone, Natasha staring up at Heimdall. 

He had watched her from afar for long enough to know that any emotion she showed him would not be the truth. So he simply asked quietly;

“Do you know what this means?” showing her the runes etched across his fingertips.

Natasha nodded slowly. “I don’t see why, though. I don’t – I never wanted a soulmate. I’m a solitary creature at heart.”

“As am I. But sometimes those who prefer to spend their time alone – sometimes even we can become lonely, can we not?”

He had been lonely for a great many more years than she, Natasha suddenly realised. Had been waiting for her, for literally millennia. “I cannot – will not – abandon the other Avengers,” she told him, even as her fingers curled around his. “And I know Odin will not spare you from Asgard for long.”

“Indeed. Stolen moments may be all that we will ever have.” Heimdall’s mouth curved in a slight smile. “I would hope, though, that you will come to me when you can. All you need do is call, and I will answer. I will watch over you always, milady.”

Natasha hesitated. “You understand, part of what I do…” she could hardly bear to think of it, with her soulmate here before her. All those she had seduced in the past, all those yet to come, because it was part of her very specific skill set, and she would never abandon a weapon so powerful.

“I understand.” A hand raised gently, moved towards her cheek as though to cup it. “There is nothing to forgive, milady. ‘Tis your weapon in the war you must fight.” His mouth quirked up. “I cannot say that I will like it. But I swear that I will never reproach you or think the less of you, for what you must do.”

She tilted her cheek into his touch, then. Closed her eyes. Let him caress her face, her hair, with astonishing gentleness. “I don’t know how to love.”

“Nor I. For a thousand years, I have known only duty. Perhaps – we can learn together?”

Natasha opened her eyes. Looked up at him, at the sincere, honest expression on that handsome face. “We can try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really loved ozhawk's short for these two and it clicked with me, so I jumped at the opportunity to continue it. It took me a while due to life, but here we are! This should be done by November, since I think I'm going to be crazy enough to do NaNo this year. 
> 
> Each chapter is going to be one of their stolen moments with each other and it's looking like 10 chapters total. Warning: there will be feels involved.
> 
> I don't have the photo manip up because I'm still figuring out AO3's posting stuff. I'll put it in later if I can figure it out.
> 
> Enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha doesn't want to talk about it.

At first, nothing seemed different. She woke in the dark before sunrise, as she always had. She assessed the state of her apartment before even opening her eyes, as she always had. Nothing had changed. Good. Old habits die hard, especially when instilled by the Red Room.

Nothing was different until she began her morning routine in her private ballet studio, courtesy of Stark. For an overbearing, rich asshole, the man had surprisingly good taste in gifts. Even when they were meant to be somewhat mocking. Natasha was fairly sure he was still smarting from her infiltration of Stark Industries.

Looking in the mirror, she noticed a dark smudge on her fingertips. She absently rubbed them together, trying to dislodge whatever it was staining them. It didn’t work. Looking down at her hand, the sight of her soul mark made the previous day come rushing back to her.

“Oh,” she said softly, so softly it was little more than an exhale. Now she remembered. She had found her soulmate. Her. Of all people. 

“Don’t tell me you forgot,” a snarky voice interrupted. Natasha reacted, whirling around with a knife in hand. She had already launched it at the voice when she realized who it was.

“Dammit, Tasha! That would have hurt!” Clint Barton could whine like a child sometimes.

“I’ve told you not to come in here, Barton. You’re lucky I didn’t hit anything vital,” she said coolly. The assassin watched impassively as he rubbed at the shallow cut on his upper arm.

“It’s not like I was quiet coming in here. Or into your apartment. Should’ve known you’d be all shook up and off your game today.” The archer didn’t continue. Silence filled the room as Natasha began stretching with the barre, her back to him. She ruthlessly suppressed the temptation to show him exactly how _on_ her game she was.

The graceful assassin let the silence stand for several minutes before she broke it. “What do you want, Clint?”

“How are you doing, Tasha? Really?” His voice was serious, concerned even. Where exactly was her partner going with this? Was he really expecting to have some kind of feelings talk? With her?

“Fine,” she bit out. The reflection of his face in the mirror showed exactly how unimpressed he was with her answer. She looked back at him blankly. He kept looking at her with that damned expression on his face. They had known each other far too long to believe the other’s bullshit.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” That ought to make him go away, for now at least. 

With a sigh, he shrugged his shoulders and made to leave. Of course, Clint Barton could never let her have the last word if he could help it.

“I’m here when you’re ready. For what it’s worth, I’m happy for you.”

She didn’t react as he walked out of the studio and left her to her thoughts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Natasha made it most of the day without thinking about the man- Asgardian?- whose soul was supposedly bound with hers. The team met to discuss their contributions to the ongoing cleanup of the city. There were still bits and pieces of Chitauri to clean up, even months post-invasion.

There were a few times when either Stark or Thor would turn to her for something. The deadly look on her face kept either of them from commenting on the previous day. Everyone else, she could handle with a business-like professionalism. 

It helped that everyone knew that she could kill them five different ways. With her pinky.

It was Pepper Potts that almost broke her resolve not to discuss it. Or think about it. Or believe it had happened at all. The CEO and supreme Stark-wrangler simply walked up to her, pressed a bottle of her preferred Russian vodka into her hands, and offered some kind words.

“If you need someone to share this with and talk to, let me know. If not, enjoy it alone. I know I went through a bottle or three of tequila when I found Tony. And if Tony gets to be too much, please let me know before you decide to kill him.” She had a wry grin and a long-suffering look on her face. The two women had never been close, or even interacted much. She was surprised that Pepper had approached her at all.

Natasha managed what she hoped was polite smile of thanks and nodded at the other redhead, not quite trusting herself to speak. Part of her wished there was someone who could really under what she was feeling and where she was coming from. The other part wanted to slit the throat of anyone who dared mention it. In the end, she took part of Pepper’s advice and sat in her living room with a shot glass and the bottle of vodka. Alone, just how she liked it.

After all, how could she explain that the world felt just as it had the day before, yet completely and utterly different all at once? Who could understand that she had never felt worthy of having a soulmate? Had been relieved to not have a mark after seeing what the Red Room made the others do to the ones who spoke their words? She had spent her entire life thankful not to have a soulmate. 

She knocked back the first shot and reveled in the warmth sliding down her throat. She quickly poured the next. It was always hard when something brought how damaged she was to the forefront of her mind. Part of her hated living in the tower with the Avengers. It reminded her of everything she didn’t have and had never had. It felt too close to having a home. And a family.

Thoughts like those never ended well. Just look at what happened to Phil.

The silence of her apartment felt suffocating in a way it never had before. Before, there had been no one to share it with. Before, she had been fine knowing that it was only her. That it would only ever be her. No one else to worry about. No one else to care for. No one else to lose. The silence had been comforting. Now, it felt empty.

“Excuse me, Agent Romanoff. You have a visitor,” came the clipped tones of JARVIS. Who would be visiting her?

“I don’t feel like going downstairs to deal with a visitor, JARVIS. Tell them to come back another time.” Just this once, she would ignore whatever obligation wanted her attention. Natasha knocked back another shot before the AI could respond, closing her eyes as the alcohol burned its way down her throat once more. She just wished it would work quicker.

“He is currently on the roof and I do not believe he will leave easily.” The roof? Who was on the roof? Did Fury need her for something? She toyed with the idea of telling him no to whatever it was he needed. Maybe she would even ask JARVIS to record it for Stark.

“Tell Fury not tonight.” She poured another shot and brought it to her lips.

“It is not Director Fury, but Thor’s Asgardian companion from yesterday, the Guardian Heimdall. He is asking to meet with you. Shall I guide him to your apartment?” Her eyes widened. So much for avoiding the problem. The problem was coming to her.

“Um. Sure. That works. Why not? Should be fun.” The vodka burned as it slid down her throat.

“Very good, Agent Romanoff.”

She managed two more shots before the knock sounded at her door. Natasha quickly controlled her breathing, using every ounce of training to keep herself collected. After all, there was no reason to be freaking out, right?

Steeling herself, she walked over to the door and opened it. She hoped her smile looked more welcoming than deranged. Something in her softened, just a little, at the sight of her tall, golden-eyed Asgardian soulmate standing at her door in Midgardian clothing. 

“Milady,” he said, deep voice rumbling. He bowed his head in her direction. She smiled wider, meaning it a little more this time. 

They stood there awkwardly for a moment, both unsure what to do or say. All of Natasha’s earlier worry seemed utterly pointless. 

She cleared her throat softly, breaking the heavy silence. “Would you like to come in?”

He paused for a moment, as if trying to find the right words. “As you wish, milady.”

“Ever had vodka? I have a bottle of Russia’s finest.” She tried to sound as laid back as possible. For the first time, her acting skills may have failed her.

“I cannot say I have, milady, but I would be willing to try it.” She smiled up at him and he moved into her apartment. She laid a hand on his arm as he passed and tried not to think about the heat radiating off of him or the quiet flutter of excitement that shot through her.

“Please, Heimdall, it’s just Natasha.” He smiled widely at her. She removed her hand and led him to the couch.

Her apartment didn’t feel so empty anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's my first installment of this series. It feels nice to be writing again!
> 
> I'm really seeing Natasha not handling the whole soulmate thing well at all. It's shaken the very foundations of what she's known about her life and really emphasized in her mind how 'broken' she is (or as she sees herself). I can also see Heimdall dealing with the same problem she has. Suddenly, the silence and the solitude isn't comforting when you know that someone is out there for you. So, he goes to her, just wanting to spend time together.
> 
> On the note of smut, I really don't think there's going to be any. It's not that I'm opposed to writing it, just that I don't think it fits in with the emotional journey these two are going on. I'm with ozhawk on the view that Natasha sees sex as a weapon and almost only a weapon. After all, she's thrown for a loop that she's attracted to Heimdall at all. And he's her soulmate! Heimdall has kept himself reserved from romantic entanglements for thousands of years. I can't see him just jumping into bed with someone either.
> 
> Also, that backstory hinted at by Pepper about her and Tony? Took on a whole life of its own. Expect a oneshot or three about those two. 
> 
> I'd love to know what everyone thinks!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heimdall has always enjoyed watching the cosmos and all its marvels. Until, that is, he had someone to watch over.

Being a Guardian was often more a blessing than a curse. His gift let him stare out into the cosmos and see all that lay before him. Heimdall had witnessed the beauty of the birth and death of stars, of life just beginning on far away planets. He watched the joy of children’s laughter, the might of warriors, and the pain of losing loved ones. These experiences had always been distant, removed. Never close to heart and home. 

Never before had he had such strong personal feelings involved while he watched. Never before had he questioned his ability to use his gift properly.

His grip tightened on the hilt of his sword as he watched his soulmate on Midgard. It had been several weeks since that quiet night in her apartment, talking of everything and nothing. He had been as surprised as she when he discovered that he enjoyed the taste of her preferred liquor. They had gone through most of her supply, several bottles worth. He still marveled at her ability to hold her drink.

Now, he marveled at her ability to act as a completely different person. Thor had said her mission was a “deep cover”. That she would be gone for weeks with no communication and would have to act as another entirely. Such a thought was foreign to a straight-forward Asgardian.

It did not help that she had not even risked murmuring a few words in his direction since they had last seen each other. He felt oddly…unsettled.

His gaze often drifted to her, even when he intended to watch other happenings. He had confided as much in his king, hoping to find some cure, some remedy. The Allfather’s booming laugh had filled the Bifrost chamber.

“I am happy for you, my old friend. Finding your soulmate is a gift like no other. But you will never stop worrying over them, especially a warrior such as your lady.” With that, he had clapped the Guardian’s shoulder and strolled away. Heimdall was perturbed at such a thought. Would he really feel this way for all eternity?

He was always concerned over Sif when she ventured out with Thor and the Warriors Three, but he had trained Sif himself. Heimdall knew she would return with no permanent damage. She was Asgardian and healed quickly. He had never felt concern in this bone-deep, gnawing form that never left him. This worry. 

The Guardian felt as if he was losing his mind. 

Heimdall tried to distract himself by gazing at an active nebula, tried lose himself in the beauty of the birth of stars. It had always worked before.  
Of course, before he had not found the one who completed him.

Almost against his will, his gaze was drawn once more back to Midgard. She looked so different, her hair black as night and eyes an earthy brown. Though he understood her need for disguise, Heimdall could not help but feel that it was wrong for her to look so. She was meant for her fiery hair and bright eyes. They expressed a part of her that her words never would.

She was in part of Eastern Europe, playing the part of a simple secretary at a corporation with suspected dangerous ties. Her mission was to discover and document such ties without anyone knowing she was there. So far, she was doing well. It was odd to see her act so meek to the loud, dangerous men who were her ‘superiors’. More than once, they had leered at her and made lewd suggestions. His soulmate had merely lowered her eyes and blushed. 

Heimdall could only hope that she did not have to lay with one of them on this mission. He marveled at the restraint she had already shown in not killing them. No Asgardian warrior of either gender would show such control. Her skillset was so foreign, yet formidable.

His soulmate once more fended off a man’s advances with that innocent demeanor and left the room to fetch more coffee. The man stared after her with an odd expression on his face, turning to his partners and speaking quietly. He pulled at a mobile phone and referenced something on it. They all tensed as Natasha entered the room with their coffee. He suddenly had a sinking feeling in his gut.

It had begun before Heimdall had put the pieces together.

The men brought up guns and began shooting at Natasha. She reacted quicker than he expected, bringing up the tray a shield while launching hot coffee at the men. She took advantage of their distraction and ran from the room, holding her arm. 

His grip on the sword tightened. The worry from earlier hit him like a rampaging bilgesnipe. The Guardian was suddenly grateful that his last meal had been several hours earlier, for he suddenly felt quite ill. 

The men were now chasing after her, shouting crude insults at her. She had pulled out her own gun and shot back a few times. It only angered them. They were out of the building now and his soulmate headed towards the trees next to the building, a decent place to try and lose the men. But Heimdall feared it would not be enough.  
She took out two guards who tried to stop her, electricity shooting from devices that he had not noticed around her wrists. More shots rang out. He couldn’t breathe as she was hit in her lower back. Somehow, she kept running.

His gift had never been more of a curse than it was in that moment.

The sound of footsteps entering the chamber alerted him to another’s presence. He could not, would not stop watching his soulmate to see who it was.

“Shall you go and retrieve her, Heimdall?” The Allfather never seemed more omniscient than in moments such as these. The Guardian did not even question how his liege knew about his soulmate’s predicament.

“She has not called for me,” he murmured, voice tight. He stopped himself from flinching as she was hit in the leg one more time. She was so close to losing the men. But there was no extraction plan in place, he knew. Now, a familiar feeling overcame him. Fear.

“Must you wait for her to? It does not look as though she can escape this situation. You will not be able to go to her rescue if they capture her.” Odin had put his fear into words. It threatened to consume him. He had not felt such a fear for millennia.

“Can we disguise the presence of the Bifrost? She would not want her connection to Asgard known at this time. Too many enemies.” He would not completely ‘blow her cover’ if he could help it. A sliver of pride joined his fear and worry as he watched her take down another of the men. Only one left.

“It can be done.” Odin Allfather was a far more generous king than he deserved. It would take much more energy than usual to disguise a strong presence such as the Bifrost.

“Then I shall retrieve her.” His decision was made not a moment too late. Natasha fell to the forest floor, somehow taking out her last pursuer. His heart leapt to his throat as she did not get up. He readied himself as the king activated the Bifrost. Suddenly, there was a burst of rainbow colors and a tugging sensation at his navel. The next moment, he was standing on the forest floor, only fluttering leaves signaling his arrival. 

His soulmate lay before him, red lifeblood staining the ground beneath her. Somehow, she was still somewhat conscious. 

“What?” she asked, voice weak and eyes unfocused. He said nothing yet, just walked over to her and bent down.

“Oh, Natasha,” he murmured, finally seeing all of her injuries. They were quite extensive. She didn’t react until he tried to place his arms underneath her.

“No!” She tried to say as loudly as possible. It was not very loud at all. Her wounds were great indeed, and Heimdall knew she had to get to the Healers quickly. The worry was back in full force, gnawing away at him.

“When you wake, you will be in the Healing Hall of the palace. Do not fear,” he said softly, deep voice rumbling. She lost consciousness as he lifted her from the ground. Only years as a warrior prevented him from grimacing at the wounds littering her body. She had been shot several times more than he realized. 

“Allfather?” he questioned, head turned to the sky. The Bifrost quickly lifted him and his cargo into its swirling embrace. 

The fear was still there, even with his soulmate in his arms. He could not stand the thought of losing her so soon after finding her. 

She would heal. She had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I got pretty sick last month and it took forever to get better. I pretty much only had energy for work. I'll be back on a more frequent posting schedule now. The good news is that I've started Chapter 4 and have the first chapter of the Tony/Pepper offshoot ready for editing :)
> 
> Also, Heimdall is weird for me to write, so I'd love feedback on anything I should tweak. Next up, how will Natasha react to waking up in a strange place?


End file.
